


At Dawn They Sleep

by violentwhistles



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, First Time, M/M, Murder, Vampire Eggsy Unwin, Vampire Harry, Vampire Turning, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 07:10:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12576436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentwhistles/pseuds/violentwhistles
Summary: Eggsy is going to take it all away from him. But in all of his initial bloodlust, he’d forgotten that though it will be easy to have Harry, it won’t matter if he isn’t able to keep him.Hartwin Role Reversal Vampire AU, loosely based on the Vampire Chronicles universe.





	At Dawn They Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween! 
> 
> Continuation of a tumblr drabble, originally inspired by [aiwa-sensei](http://aiwa-sensei.tumblr.com/post/166467714690/violentwhistles-aiwa-sensei-30-day-au)'s Vampire Chronicles hartwin art. 
> 
> Vampires are naturally very non-con, in that they _murder people_ , but there is no non-consensual sex in this fic. Just non-consensual death.
> 
> I uh... don't have any excuses. I'm a regular Stephanie Meyer now.

Roxy gives him shit about it, every dozen years or so.

 “It’s not good to wander alone,“ she tells him, “Don’t you ever think of turning any of them?”

“No,” Eggsy says truthfully. They’re all boring. He’s drawn to their scent, to their blood, and closes the night with their muffled screams and that’s all wants from them. 

But the night he sees the tall dark shadow of a man across the ballroom he understands what she meant. Eggsy feels drawn to him in his very core, like two magnets being introduced for the first time. He understands why it couldn’t have been anyone else. The idea had no appeal until now, because it’s always been him. He just hadn’t had the fortune of finding him yet.  

The moment the man’s scent hits Eggy’s he’s already plotting. He’s vibrating in his corner of the party, giddy on the anticipation of what’s to come. He’s never been so eager to seduce someone before, desperate to get him alone somewhere quiet and to simply take what he wants. He wants what he always wants, wants to sink his teeth into the flesh of the man’s neck, wants to taste what’s running in his veins. He prays he will taste sweeter, that it will give him some deeper understanding as to why this one. He also wants to give. For the first time in his hundreds of years, He finds he’s eager for the look in the man’s eyes when Eggsy bites downs just as much as he is for the look when Eggsy will pull away. Imagines the fear and shock when Eggsy tells him,  _We’re one and the same now. Welcome to immortality._  Oh, and what a gift to give such a man. 

Eggsy crosses the room gracefully, keeps an eye on those whose who may be keeping an eye on him, and approaches. 

The man is standing alone now, his friends have moved on, and he’s staring wistfully at his glass of wine. The wine is the color of blood and Eggsy wants to see the man absolutely painted with it.

“That bad, is it?” Eggsy asks.

The man glances up, obviously startled. Eggsy stands and let’s him look his fill. He knows he’s a bit out of place here, eternally youthful and frozen at twenty. He’s dressed well, knows he comes across as high society but as someone’s son rather than  _someone_.

“The wine’s fine. It’s the entertainment that’s lacking, quite honestly,” the man says.

Eggsy doesn’t look away. He can’t. The man’s throat is hidden by his high collar, his blue jacket obscuring the lines of his jugular, but Eggsy is aching to see and feel and taste what he’s hidden away. It’s as if someone has wrapped the most delightful of presents in white lace and blue cotton. They might as well, for how he’s going to tear them apart under his hands later. He feels as drunk as he knows the man is.

“The party not to your liking? Mister ….?”

“Mister Hart. Please, Harry.” He takes a long sip from the glass, Eggsy is transfixed as he watches him tip his head back and his throat swallow, “It’s not the party itself, I’m just bored of, well, all of it I suppose. Probably just too much wine.”

He hopes Harry means it because Eggsy is going to take it all away from him.   _Drink, Harry. Because tomorrow you won’t be able to._

* * *

 In all of his initial blood lust, he’d forgotten that though it will be easy to have Harry, it won’t matter if he isn’t able to keep him.

Eggsy has done this long enough he knows how to play to his audience. Women want him to lean in, to place his hand on the small of their back and to gaze at them with innocent infatuation. Men want him to look away when they look at him, to be overtly sexual and yet blush and insist anything of the sort would be indecent.

So when he leads Harry into the garden that first night, he should know what Harry thinks this is.

Eggsy is undeniably flirting with him. He is guilty of that. But he’s nearly forgotten the way humans think. He’s gotten side-tracked asking Harry about himself, wanting to know more, if he’s worthy of being given the dark gift that Eggsy can give him. He’s forgotten that while he is busy conducting a sort of marriage interview, Harry still thinks they’re going to make love amongst the roses.

But when Harry crowds him against the side of the manor, murmuring “Is this alright?” into his mouth, the fragrance of him closer than ever, turning Eggy’s stomach, Eggsy has no other answer but yes.

It’s a conflicting ordeal. He still has blood in his veins and a beating heart that forces him to live on, but aside from that his body is dead. Eggsy is frozen in time. He doesn’t age. He can’t eat. He can’t orgasm. The one and only source of pleasure he’s has is feeding on another’s blood. He’s learned over the years, however, that he can redirect his blood enough that he can fake his way through arousal. It prevents the humans from panicking.

And he does just that, because he finds that he’s eager to please Harry. If this is what Harry wants from him then Eggsy will try to give. And it's not as if Eggsy can back away, not when he can smell Harry so strongly from this close, the dark scent of his blood like licorice tainted with wine. Harry is drunk enough to not stop the sounds spilling from his mouth as Eggsy plays with the fastenings of his trousers. Eggsy doesn’t do this often, it’s been a few hundred years since he last tried, but he knows that the best way to avoid drawing attention to himself is to be the aggressor.

So he sinks to his knees in the dirt, tiny rocks digging into his shins, and takes Harry apart with his mouth.

Somehow he manages to leave Harry alone in the garden when he’s done.

Eggsy kills three men that night, and when the sun threatens to rise he’s still not satisfied.

* * *

It’s a slow process. He doesn’t want to say he’s courting Harry, but he very well may be courting Harry. They’ve spent several nights together, first pretending to casually run into each other in the evening, and now they have confirmed plans and dates.

He learns that Harry is a doctor. Harry doesn’t have any family or friends that will come looking for him when Eggsy takes him. Harry tells him his best friend died in the war. He was there but couldn’t save him. His wife and son died in childbirth while he was away. Harry wasn’t there but he couldn’t save them either. He doesn’t seem like a man consumed by his sorrow, but he seems indifferent enough to this life that Eggsy thinks he’ll take the offer when Eggsy extends it.

They go to several more parties together, where Harry gets tipsy and always says, “You’re going to make me drink alone?”

Eggsy smiles at him, sharper than he should allow. Flashes a hint of fang, a hint of what’s to come, and says, “For now.”

* * *

Eggsy waits for several weeks. He’s been alive for almost a thousand years, doesn’t know anyone older than himself except Roxy, but he feels as if he’s aged a thousand more in just the last two months. He kills more frequently than he can ever remember. The town is starting to gossip, something about a murderer on the loose, and he knows Harry is starting to get suspicious. But he doesn't want to rush Harry, doesn't want to force his hand, so he continues to wait.

He waits until one day, after Harry has invited him back to his house, when Harry is laying on his bed, looking over at Eggsy on the sofa and says, “Why don’t you ever stay?”

The words he’s chosen are gentle, but his tone speaks volumes. Eggsy looks up at him, knows they’ve finally reached a tipping point. “How utterly vague. That won’t get you anything. Ask me what you really want to know.”

Harry’s expression is open and unguarded. He thinks about it for a moment, then asks, “What can I do to make you to stay?”

It’s surprising to say the least, certainly not what Eggsy had been trying to goad out of him. He can’t help but smirk, “Do you really want me to stay? When you don’t even know what I am? What it is you invite into your bed?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Harry is stubborn, speaks with unfounded conviction.

“But it does, doesn’t it?”

Then Eggsy tells him the truth. He explains what he is, how he was made this way, how he can make Harry this way, and answers all of Harry’s questions that he can. He talks until the sun nearly comes up and he has to take his leave.

Harry kisses him goodbye, and tells Eggsy he needs to think on all of it, but the taste of his lips and shape of his mouth tell Eggsy that Harry already belongs to him.

* * *

Eggsy returns the next night, lets himself in through the balcony and the large glass doors separating it from Harry’s bed. He can hear the too quick thump of Harry’s pulse, and it somehow seems to have been made louder by the dark. “Have you decided?”

Harry sits up, slightly, eyes searching for Eggsy in the dark, “You say that as if I have a choice.”

“I’m not going to turn you against your will.” Eggsy doesn’t elaborate, because he knows he has stretched himself too thin. Harry’s words don’t have any heat to them and he knows the man is being purposefully difficult to rile him. Regardless, Eggsy will have to leave London soon enough, and either Harry is dying tonight or Harry is dying tonight. Eggsy is simply giving him his pick of how. He’s lucky Eggsy has allowed him to live this long.

“I want you to do it.” Harry says, “Against my better judgement, I’ve developed quite a fondness for you. I don’t want to carry on without you, and all of eternity by your side still doesn’t sound like enough.”

“Oh, Harry,” Eggsy sighs happily, stepping closer to the bed, “You sodding romantic.”

He climbs atop the other man, settles one leg on either side of his waist and slowly brings his hand up to Harry’s neck. He touches the smooth skin there, drags his hand to the fastenings of Harry’s shirt. He can feel the tension in the air, the anticipation of what’s to come. His hands linger as they unbutton the top few buttons of Harry’s shirt, just enough that Eggsy can push the fabric down around his shoulders. Harry is a mess of emotions beneath him. His muscles are taut, and his face lined with fear and anticipation. He can feel Harry’s arousal beneath him despite his obvious uncertainty.

He brushes Harry’s hair out of the way, gently, and tucks a piece behind his ear. He’s staring at the white flesh of Harry’s neck now, the way his broad shoulder and distinctive collarbones arch into the place Eggsy wants most of all. His skin is unblemished, without freckles or marks. Eggsy wants to ruin him. For now, he simply presses his face there, brushes his lips against the skin, already imagining the taste. He breathes in, and as he exhales he realizes he’s shuddering.

“Get on with it, then,” Harry says. His throat vibrates beneath Eggy’s mouth.

“Not quite yet,” Eggsy says, and he rocks his hips down, just to hear the moaning noise Harry makes. Then does it once more.

“There won’t be any of this once you’re turned,” Eggsy tells him.

“Sex?” Harry says, “Have you merely been humoring me?”

Eggsy pulls back then, to look at him once more, before he changes him forever. Harry is a lovely human, flushed under him, looking up with narrowed eyes. He’ll make an even lovelier vampire. “Humoring… No. It’s simply that the desire isn’t there. The body ceases to function and there is no longer a drive to procreate. The only desire you’ll know is for blood, and the reward is greater than any sexual pleasure you know of.”

“But you do desire me. My blood.”

Eggsy leans in to gaze into Harry’s eyes, tips his chin up with his hand. “Darling, more than you can comprehend.”

“And after tonight?”

“And after tonight.”

There are mere inches between them as they stare at each other. Harry swallows once, and looks at Eggsy squarely, “Take me then.”

Eggsy appreciates how brave the man is trying to be, wants to commend him for it, but Harry turns his head out of Eggy’s grasp then, baring the full expanse of his neck. For all that Harry makes him feel, nothing is stronger than the desire that courses through him at Harry presenting himself to him.

Eggsy loses all semblance of humanity and sinks his teeth into Harry’s neck.

Harry tastes like everything and nothing he was expecting. He understands immediately why he was drawn to the man, even at such distance. His blood has been singing a siren song all this time, a song attuned specifically for him. The taste of him is warm and rich, oaky and tart. As he drinks Harry’s blood feels like a fire blooming under his skin. Eggsy doesn’t have the words to describe it. Harry is incomparable to any of the thousands of others he’s had before. He knows in the very core of him with unwavering certainty that this will be his one and only fledgling.

He drinks. It’s absolute bliss, he nearly has half a mind to finish Harry here, to bleed him dry. He can’t think of a greater pleasure than what he’s experiencing now, can’t think of any reason to stop. He nearly loses himself in it, thinks that if he was a few hundred years younger he truly may have, but he feels Harry’s pulse slowing and Eggsy wretches himself away. The thought of never tasting this again is pure agony, enough to give him the strength to stop for tonight. Harry is pale, making small noises as he chokes down air.

Eggy is surprised as he pulls away to find what a mess he’s made. Eggsy normally keeps things quite clean, but he was swept away and devoured with such utter abandon he’s made a disaster of Harry’s neck. His blood is spilling down his throat, staining his white blouse, which is to say nothing of the white sheets against his back. He wants to lean back in, lick the rest of his skin clean, but the dull thump of Harry’s heart reminds him of the urgency of his situation.

He presses his wet lips against his own wrist, and bites down hard. The deep red smudges of Harry’s blood are like lipstick marks against the white of his skin. As his own blood begins to drip from the wound, he watches it blend into the traces of Harry’s.

“Drink.” He pushes his wrist up to Harry’s mouth. Harry’s eyes are nearly closed, glazed and unfocused, head lolling back against the mattress. Eggsy is briefly terrified he’s gone too far, that he’s quite nearly killed the man. “Harry,” he says sharply.

Harry does look at him now, though it seems to take considerable effort. Eggsy cradles one hand around the back of Harry’s head, and pushes the other wrist against Harry’s open lips. He feels when Harry finally latches on, when he closes his mouth against the skin and brings his tongue to the marks. Then, gradually, Harry goes from lavishing his skin and taking what is given to demanding more. He digs his teeth into Eggy’s flesh, and they haven’t changed, not yet, but the instinct is there, and he sucks.

The first pull of Harry’s mouth is like nothing he’s ever felt. His entire being feels narrowed down to Harry’s mouth against his wrist. It’s as if Harry is pulling him apart, smashing him to pieces from the outside in. He has such vague recollections of his human memories, but he’s reminded of conversations he’s overheard of other human men, describing their passionate affairs and the way their partner would use their mouths to pleasure them. He feels like he has found paradise.

He’s pressed up against Harry everywhere, gasping and writhing over him. Eggys still has one hand tangled in Harry’s curls, but now it’s simply pulling, scrambling for something to anchor him.

Eggsy isn’t sure he long he’s supposed to allow this to continue. He lets Harry drink as long as he can. When he feels he’s at his limit, he wretches him back by the hair. Harry lets out a snarl of sorts, mouth chasing after Eggy’s wrist, but then he seems to remember himself and relaxes back into the pillows.

Eggsy rolls off him, landing on his back and gasping for air. He’s not sure what he had expected this to be, but certainly not this. He wasn’t prepared for how utterly overwhelmed he feels. Just when he thought he had run out of things to feel, emotions to name, and experiences in the world Harry gives him this. They lay in silence for a moment, and when Eggsy opens his eyes again he needs to look at Harry, needs some sort of consolation that he has survived the ordeal.

He turns his head and finds Harry’s eyes already trained on him.

“Are you alright?” Eggsy asks. The question seems so futile in the wake of what they’ve just done.

“I-,” Harry licks his lips, eyes darting all around Eggy’s face, “I can see so much more. Your voice is…”

Eggsy lets out a small laugh.  He knows Harry can hear the timber and music behind it in the way he couldn’t before. “It’ll take some time to adjust.”

“You’re even more stunning than I had thought,” Harry says. He’s still reeling, looks at Eggsy with such genuine awe there’s no room for embarrassment. No room for anything but honesty.

And Eggsy can’t stop his laugh now. He’s beside himself with joy, a quiet disbelief that he’s finally claimed a human as his own, yet still delirious on the high of moments ago.

“Harry, we’re going to be utterly unstoppable.”

* * *

He hasn’t spent much time around fledglings, around vampires who haven’t learned to control themselves and their urges. If he had, he thinks he may have planned out meals in advance. As it is, Harry is hungry, but he knows Harry isn’t capable of looking presentable yet, so he instructs him to wait at home and goes out to hunt alone.

Eggsy wants to find someone worthy of being Harry’s first. He’s not sure why the first one matters so much to him when he knows he won’t even be partaking. He isn’t even sure if Harry will remember them particularly well once the initial blood lust and the frenzy of it all has dissipated.

Eggsy drifts between parties, weaves his way in and out of the London crowds. He feels as if he’s shopping for a present for his own wedding.

He finds plenty of acceptable options, but nothing really catches his eye. He’s always had a fondness for the town butcher’s twins, a boy and a girl just eighteen. They both have a habit for drinking, and he’s certain he could get either of them all the way to the house. He hasn’t seen them so far tonight, but they go out frequently enough. He isn’t sure which of the two Harry would prefer.

It’s starting to get quite late and he knows Harry won’t wait for him to return forever. He’s all but settled on finding the twins when he sees her.

It’s a young woman, perhaps early twenties. She’s just arrived, fashionably late in an oversized blue gown. Her dark straight hair is swept up into some sort of arrangement, exposing her neck and the skin of her chest. She smells like sugar. He’s not sure what it is about her, but he knows that she will please Harry.

And Eggsy knows that he can please her. It’s an easy pursuit, made easier by the anticipation and pride of providing for Harry. He feels like a lion bringing home food to his mate.

She tells him she’s the cousin of one of the local Dukes, which would usually be a problem. It's a high price to pay, and will certainly draw attention to himself, but Eggsy is prepared to pay any price necessary for Harry. Eggsy manages to be forward enough to convince her to come home with him, but casual enough that she thinks she still has a choice in the matter. She’s a lovely young woman, and he feels a small twinge of regret for what’s to come of her, but when he thinks of Harry he thinks he would trade thousands of woman like this for him. He knows in the coming years he probably will.

Eggsy leads her through the house, up to the bedroom. Harry is hidden in the shadows on the balcony, doors wide open and wind drifting into the room. Eggsy can feel him waiting there, tense with anticipation.

As soon as the door to the bedroom closes, the girl is backing him up against it, kissing him passionately. Eggsy laughs into her mouth, because the sheets behind her are still stained with blood, the mess of the other day’s turning, but the girl hasn’t half the mind to even bother looking at them.

The girl, Olivia, shoves the jacket off Eggy’s shoulders, leaving him in his white linen blouse. Harry is still hovering in the doorway to the balcony. Eggsy can hear him breathing heavily, but she still hasn’t noticed his presence. She kisses down his neck, the irony of it not escaping him, and when she brings one hand to palm at him through his trousers he finally speaks.

“Olivia, my dear, I’m afraid I forgot to mention that I have company,” Eggsy tells her. The girl instantly freezes, spinning around to look at Harry. Her pulse is hammering between them. Harry is looking at her with such unconcealed hunger Eggsy doesn’t think there’s any way Olivia won’t know what he is. Eggsy has so much still to teach him.

Eggsy rests his head back against the door, watches Harry take a step toward her.

Eggsy had taken care of him the last few days, held him and walked him through the death of his body. Now he stands in the bedroom, illuminated by the moonlight behind him, truly immortal. He’s the same pale white as Eggsy now, it brings such a beauty to his features that he looks like an idealized marble statue. Eggsy wonders if she can make out his dark eyes gleaming in the night.

“What do you think, Harry? Should we show Olivia a good time?”

Harry says nothing, but continues to move slowly towards them.

“Eggsy, I really don’t-“ Olivia protests. Harry is closing in, and Olivia takes a futile step backwards, right into Eggsy’s chest. Eggsy holds her there, in front of him and in front of Harry.

“Harry’s quite handsome, isn’t he?” Eggsy whispers into her ear, “Let us take care of you.”

The girl is still now, doesn’t move as Harry steps into her space. She’s stuck between them, Eggsy against her back and Harry against her front.

Eggsy presses open mouth kisses to her throat as Harry undoes the front of her dress. She shuffles forward a bit to shuck off her gown, left in her corset and underwear. Harry’s hands sneak behind her, pressed between her and the flat planes of Eggy’s stomach as he makes quick work of her lacings as Eggsy pushes down her underwear.

The girl is naked then, shivering in the breeze. She’s obviously been caught off guard, but hasn’t caught on to what’s about to happen to her.

Harry looks like he’s on the verge of collapse. Eggsy can see in his movements and his eyes that he’s hardly able to hold together the pretense and pretending. Eggsy spins the girl around, away from Harry’s obvious desires, and kisses her again. He undoes her hair, letting the long strands fall over her shoulders and down her back. Eggsy pulls back to look at her briefly, and then locks eyes with Harry over her shoulder.

“Don’t be shy _now_ , Harry,” Eggsy says to him.

Harry seems to be stuck in place, obvious uncertainty and reluctance in his stance. He’s only been a vampire for three days, is still associating himself with what the girl is instead of embracing what they are.

Eggsy can’t help but roll his eyes. He doesn't mind playing with his food but he's only going to kiss the tart for so long. He grip the girls arms and holds her in place, with a force stronger than any human could.

“Harry.”

Olivia is shaking in his hold, starting to make attempts at struggling. “Let go of me,” She hisses, feebly attempting to push at Eggsy’s chest, trying to create distance between them. A few moments pass, but Harry is still staring at them, wide-eyed.

“Harry,” Eggsy says more insistently. The girls is starting to panic. He brings his hand up to the her mouth now, hushing her screams. She bites into his palm and Eggsy can immediately feel she's broken the skin there, smells his own blood in the air and then Harry is on her.

Harry presses himself against her back, the force of it sending her into Eggsy and Eggsy careening against the door. The three of them are flush together in one fluid movement. Strange enough the girl is silent now, probably in shock. Eggsy is so close, can smell the sweet scent of her blood and can see where Harry’s teeth are disappearing into her neck.

He laughs, delighted, stuck between the door and the girl, watching the ravenous look of Harry's face. He gently coaxes them back, sits Harry down on the bed with the girl in front of him.

Eggsy sprawls out next to them and watches eagerly. He can’t help but appreciate his handiwork. Harry was a handsome man before, and Eggsy can't deny there's something even stronger that pulls him to him now. Harry looks positively lethal, young, and frenzied as he drains the girl. He is elegant in a way so few other vampires manage, even in his new and unpolished state. For being his first attempt at a fledgling, Eggsy thinks he's done a damn good job.

The girl is dying now, but Harry hasn’t learned to let up. He’s still drinking, blood spilling down his mouth and onto his white ascot. It reminds him of babies and their bibs as they learn to eat for the first time.

“Oh Harry,” Eggsy sighs, “You are such a messy eater.”

Harry doesn’t give any indication that he’s heard him. Eggsy grips Harry by the jaw, turns his head forcibly to face him. Harry still has his mouth open, fangs on display and whole jaw crimson. The sight of it is such a raw and arousing thing that Eggsy is no longer content with simply watching.

Eggsy leans in and curls his tongue around Harry’s fangs, cleaning them slowly. Then he licks into his mouth, chasing the taste of the girl’s blood just as much as he is the taste of Harry. The poor girl’s body is forgotten between them, as Harry wraps his bloody hands in Eggy’s shirt and kisses him, twining their tongues together until the taste of the girl is gone and the threat of dawn tears them apart.

“You’ve done very well, Harry,” Eggsy says into Harry’s mouth at last.

“I thought it would be harder,” Harry admits quietly. The blood has done him well, his coloring is much better and he’s far more lucid than he’s been the last few days. “I thought I would be plagued by regret and angst, yet I can’t find it within me.”

“You’d be an awful vampire if you spent all your time wallowing over human life,” Eggsy says. He brings Harry’s hand to his mouth slowly licks the blood off of his fingers. He sucks two fingers into his mouth lewdly, an imitation of what he’d done to Harry’s cock the first night they met. 

Harry makes an agreeable noise, and looks down at the girl’s body on the floor. When Eggsy pulls away from Harry's fingers, Harry reaches out and laces their hands together. 

Eggsy is so terribly fond of him already.


End file.
